Perchance
by Autumn Rayne
Summary: Crane and Miss Jenny share a conversation. Crane's POV


**Perchance**

"It really is pathetic, isn't it?" I settle my glass of beer on the table and turn to the woman on my left. Miss Jenny Mills, sister of my fellow Witness, rests her forearms along the edge of the table, winding her fingers around her own glass.

"I beg your pardon?" With an upward tip of her chin, she motions towards the bar.

"The way Hawley fawns all over my sister." I turn to my right, my eyes immediately finding the pair. Miss Mills, _Abbie_ Mills, stands square to the bar, her hands resting at its edge. Mr. Hawley faces her, his left arm leaning on the polished plank of wood. He smiles and shifts closer to the lieutenant as he touches her arm. She proceeds to laugh at the words he speaks.

"Oh?" I look away, focusing my attention across the room on a rather uninteresting brick in the wall. "I hadn't noticed." I lift my glass to my mouth, nearly spilling the contents as Miss Jenny nudges me with her elbow.

"Liar," she snorts. She leans back in her chair, draping an arm behind its spindled back. "You've been giving Hawley the evil eye all night."

"I most certainly have not," I protest, turning towards her. She smirks widely as her head tilts slightly to the side. "Ah, the 'look'," I say, making a great exaggeration of rolling my eyes.

"And what have I taught you about the 'look'?"

"You believe my words to be contradictory to the truth."

"Known in modern times as..." I shift my gaze upward, refusing to hold her eyes any longer.

"You are…calling me on my…B-S." She laughs, and not for the first time, at my refusal to put the two letters together. _Say it like it's one word, two syllables,_ she has repeatedly said to me. I have yet to bend to that notion.

"Yes, I am." I quietly clear my throat and look towards my glass, if only to stare at it.

"Well, maybe his…persistence…has come to my attention. Once…or twice."

"Once or twice," she mocks in a heavily overdone and wholly inaccurate British accent. I lift my hand, holding up my index finger as I prepare to make point.

"As I have told your sister, and many, many times at that, I do not sound as such." She laughs again, louder this time, and I cannot stop the smile that touches my lips. In these times of tribulation, we must cherish every moment of amusement, for they are precious few. She sighs as her giggling subsides and I pursue another drink.

"So, what's your story, Icky?" I have long since given up on breaking Miss Jenny of that nickname. I have found the more I show my annoyance, the more she favors the word. She has of late resigned herself to using it only during the most trying of times. It has become a comfort, a sign of camaraderie. "Do you have the hots for my sister, too?" I nearly choke on my beverage when the words leave her mouth.

"Miss Jenny!" I stammer, trying to catch my breath. She places one hand on my arm and rather roughly slaps my back with the other.

"You okay there, Cowboy?"

"Quite," I cough out. As I gather my wits, I turn to her. "Why, pray tell, would you suggest such a thing?"

"First, can I just say that I'm surprised you know what it means to have the hots for someone?" She is clearly amused and I must say I find that oddly terrifying.

"I have been immersed in this culture for some time now. I have…learned a few things."

"Fair enough," she nods, leaning back into her chair.

"And to my question?" She smiles and shrugs.

"Just pulling your leg. Joking," she explains.

"Ah." I allow a brief moment to pass before I speak again, carefully seeking proof to my impression. "Your displeasure in the attention Mr. Hawley diverts towrds your sister…You and he have history?" Her smile fades and she gently nods her head.

"And it should have stayed just that, history." Her eyes move to the table, as does her hand. "Live and learn," she says, absently wiping the fog from her glass. "Right?"

"Indeed."

"I just…" She sighs loudly. "Abbie deserves better than Hawley, you know? Someone who is going to care more about her than he does himself." She shifts in her chair, leaning her arms on the table once more.

"She does," I agree. "As do you." Miss Jenny smiles softly.

"You really don't like him, do you?" I meet her eyes. Her inflection is more statement than question.

"No," I answer honestly. "I do not. From whence we met I have believed him to be arrogant and inconsiderate of the effects his actions have on others."

"Well, your assessment is spot on. I'm all for following one's dreams and going where opportunities are available, but when Nick goes where the gettin' is good, he leaves everyone behind like they didn't exist to begin with."

"And this is what happened with you," I state.

"Yeah. The first time he left, I was hurt, but I didn't get it. The second time…the second time should have been a big red flag."

"You chose to ignore the…big red flag?"

"I was alone. No real friends, no family. When I was with him, I felt grounded, felt like I belonged somewhere that wasn't jail or Tarrytown. I felt normal. But the third time, the last time he left…" She nods thoughtfully, her gaze non-committal as memory takes hold. "No one needs that kind of crap." I tilt my head, regarding her quietly as she looks at me. "What?"

"However," I prod.

"However?" I recall the words Miss Mills uses.

"As your sister would say, there is a big but in the way." Miss Jenny throws back her head and laughs. Clearly, I did not use those words correctly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says, wiping a string of tears from her cheek. "I'm…Oh, Icky." She sighs another chuckle. "Whew. That was good. I needed that."

"I'm…glad I could be of service." I shall pay better attention the next time the lieutenant uses that phrase. Miss Jenny stills her laughter.

"However," she starts, indulging urging. "The other day, I stopped by his…boat thing." She looks away, guilt washing over her face. "I wasn't there for any _good_ reason." She looks at me again. "I kissed him." I lift my eyebrows in surprise.

"I was…not expecting that."

"It was stupid. I know that. I guess I just wanted to see if that spark was still there."

"Was it?"

"No." She smiles softly. "No, it wasn't. And that's all right. I'm over that part of my life," she says proudly. Another silent moment passes. "How long does it take to get food in this place?" she asks, staring at Mr. Hawley and Miss Mills' place at the bar. "I'm going to die of starvation pretty soon."

"Miss Jenny," I laugh. "It is incredibly remarkable to me how much you and your sister are alike."

"Is she dying of starvation, too?"

"If one were to take into account the string of very violent threats she lobbed in my direction just this morning over which of us was to possess the last donut hole, then yes, she must be extraordinarily famished."

"You didn't give in to her and let her have the last donut hole, did you?" I smile, remembering how much enjoyment I derived in keeping Miss Mills from gaining possession of the pastry bag.

"Not until she threatened me with the electrical armament." Miss Jenny's eyes grow wide and she leans closer to me.

"She threatened you…with a _Taser_?" she laughs. "That's pretty serious, Crane. What did you do?"

"I merely held the bag above my head." For the second time, her smile drops, though this time much more quickly than the first.

"Oh, you didn't."

"Oh, I did."

"You know my sister doesn't like short jokes, right?"

"I do, indeed." I offer an accomplished smile. "She has spoken twenty-three words to me since. 'I'm meeting Jenny and Hawley for dinner; come along if you want.' And…well…the other eleven turned into an eloquent string of profanities, before she pulled the…Taser…from the chest of arms. But dare I say, I would repeat my action without hesitation." Miss Jenny and I share quite the laugh over Miss Mills' ruffling.

"Let no one say you don't know how to live on the edge, Old Man." She pats my shoulder. "Well done." She places her elbow on the table and supports her chin with her fist. "So tell me, in what other ways are Abbie and I alike?"

"Oh, many ways, Miss Jenny. You are both very intelligent women. You are strong in your convictions as well as in your ability to 'kick ass', as the lieutenant is fond of saying." That earns me yet another of her smiles. "You're both _unbelievably_ resolute when you argue with each other, yet neither hesitates to risk her life for the other." My attention shifts again to the bar. Miss Mills is still waiting for the food and drinks she and Mr. Hawley set out to procure. "You compliment one another's differences, champion your similarities. You each possess an inner beauty unique to your character." Miss Mills shifts her position away from Hawley, clearly annoyed by his proximity. And her eyes…they portray an unusual sadness. Still Hawley continues speaking, no doubt more than seemingly oblivious to the lieutenant's feelings. "You are stubborn and brave, yet open and willing to admit and conquer weakness. Cautious, yet loyal. Fierce, yet caring." I sigh quietly. "Strong, yet gentle."

"And Abbie is very pretty," Miss Jenny adds quietly.

"She is…breathtaking." I close my eyes, silently chastising myself as I immediately realize my mistake.

"Oh my god," Miss Jenny whispers. I turn to her, a swell of tears in her eyes. "You don't have the hots for my sister," she states plainly. It is a mere second before a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. "You _love_ her."

"I do not—"

"Don't," she interrupts, placing her hand on my arm. "Don't lie to me. How long have you felt this way about Abbie?"

"I am a married man," I remind her.

"Yeah. Married to a woman who is living with Headless himself. A woman who…" She stops speaking and shifts her chair closer to mine. "Katrina isn't…coming back, is she?" she says with a quiet, gentle voice.

"No," I respond as quietly, looking away. "Unfortunately, this is the point where our paths diverge. Permanently."

"Does Abbie know?" I take a deep breath, shaking my head slightly as I meet her gaze again.

"There was something in her eyes, in the manner in which she thanked Katrina with such a long embrace that leads me to believe she understands as much but has not yet allowed herself to accept it."

"Well, you did say Abbie is stubborn."

"I said that of you both."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She smiles and waves her hand dismissively. "You didn't answer my question. How long have you been in love with Abbie?" I simply stare at Miss Jenny. I fear a truthful response will serve my devotion to Katrina a false appearance. "I'll take your silence to mean quite a while now. Look, I'm not going to pretend to understand what you've been going through in the past two years, but I do know that it hasn't been easy for you. There's been so much doubt and suspicion, so many secrets biting everyone in the ass like rabid dogs. People found and lost again. And it's not like this is going to calm down anytime soon."

"Everything changed in near literally the blink of an eye. Alas, it is true that there is still much to learn, much to reconcile." She changes her position again, perching on the edge of the chair as she places her arm around my shoulders.

"But this, all of this Witness with a capital 'w' and end of the world Apocalypse stuff…it's your fate, your destiny. It's Abbie's destiny, too. Does it really seem odd or wrong that you would have feelings for her?" She gently shakes my shoulders and I smile softly. "Maybe it's been part of the plan along."

"Perhaps."

"Unlike my sister, I am always right." With a wink, she pulls back and adjusts her chair to its original place.

"Cheesy fries, burgers and beer as promised," Miss Mills announces as she and Mr. Hawley settle plates and glasses on the table. As she takes her place across from her sister, she looks at me. I have held firmly to my belief that meeting Abigail Mills was no accident; the crossing of our paths deliberate. Perchance Miss Jenny is correct, that the feelings I possess are no happenstance. "Are you going to play keep away with this food, too, Crane? I'm warning you, I'll climb you like a damn tree if I have to." Though her words are sharp, the sparkle in her eyes yields a great, playful teasing. I reach across the table and pull a cheese-covered stick of potato from her plate.

"You shall have to catch me first."


End file.
